We had a regular property room in the attic. We used to be
rigged out as something-or-other all day Saturday, usually."
"What were you?" Brother demanded eagerly. Unconsciously he dropped,
hugging his knees, by the side of the young man, and Caroline,
observing the motion, came over a little shyly and stood behind
them. The young lady raised her eyebrows and shot a side glance at
her host, but he smiled back at her brightly.
"Well, we did quite a little in the pirate line," he replied. "I had
an old Mexican sword and Ridgeway--that was my cousin--owned a pair
of handcuffs."
"Handcuffs!" Brother's jaw dropped.
"Yes, sir, handcuffs. It was rather unusual, of course, and he was
awfully proud of them. An uncle of his was a sheriff out in
Pennsylvania somewhere, and when he died he left 'em to Ridge in his
will. That was pretty grand, too, having it left in a will."
Caroline nodded and sat down on an old log behind the young man. A
long smear of brown, wet bark appeared on the nightgown, and one end
of the blue ribbon dribbled into a tiny pool of last night's shower,
caught in a hollow stone.
"It was a toss-up who'd be pirate king," the young man went on,
smiling over his shoulder at Caroline, "because I was older than he
was, handcuffs or not, and after all, a sword is something.
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